


Bargaining

by PanBoleyn



Series: The Iron Gauntlet and the Silk Glove [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-07 12:56:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanBoleyn/pseuds/PanBoleyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cat thought Ned was going to leave the boy in White Harbour. When he doesn't, and when a raven arrives from King's Landing, a deal is struck.</p><p>Chapter two, in which the deal is followed through on, is now posted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And here we have more changes to this 'verse's Westeros! A lot of this is because I could not BELIEVE, in a medieval-type society, that none of the Stark kids were even betrothed.

He was supposed to leave the boy with the Manderlys. Well, no, if Catelyn is honest with herself, Ned never actually said that he was leaving Jon Snow with the Lord of White Harbour when he took him there along with Robb. But she had thought it implied, that or he'd finally seen sense and realized the boy belonged with his mother's people. He could take a ship for Dragonstone or a Dornish port, Storm's End even from White Harbour, after all.

 

But no, Ned comes back with Ashara Dayne's son as well as Robb, and that night he finds his wife's chambers closed to him. They have been married long enough that, while Catelyn knows her duty, she also knows that an expression of her displeasure will not result in a breakdown of her marriage. So her door is closed to Ned for a night, and then two, until he approaches her in her solar on the third day after his return.

 

“Catelyn...”

 

“I thought you were finally ready to let the boy go.” Ten years ago, Catelyn had confronted Ned about Jon. He had his mother, she'd pointed out, and the Dornish were a queer lot who took bastards in stride even when they were not in proper place. For example, the Sand Snakes, daughters of Oberyn Martell. Everyone knows about them. She hadn't mentioned the Snakes to Ned, had not even spoken of how he dishonored her, threatened Robb's inheritance. In truth, the boy would be happier with his mother as most children were, and she had said as much, thinking it was the most likely to sway him. What was best for his son.

 

Catelyn takes no pleasure in the fact that she was right, that the two people who most want Jon Snow away from Winterfell are her and Jon Snow himself. All she remembers is Ned snapping, “He is my son, my family. I will not discuss it with you.” It was Benjen, who had overheard it, who told Catelyn in the shy way he'd had then that Ned did it because the Starks had lost so much already. He could not bear to

 

She had not known what to think of it then. Had told herself it was a reaction to grief, and when some time had passed, he would see sense. But no, the boy was ten and had grown up alongside her Robb. Ned's Stark son alongside her Tully one. Jon Snow was older than Robb. If Ned ever decided... He had been betrothed to Ashara Dayne, it would be even easier to legitimize their child than another bastard, and as the eldest child he would take Robb's place. The boy was too much a threat and Ned would not give him up.

 

“Catelyn, there has been a raven from King's Landing,” Ned says, and his tone is enough to calm some of her anger. Something about his voice... “Jon wants us to consider matches for Robb, Sansa, and Arya. He suggests...” He pauses, and Catelyn frowns. Part of her is relieved to have something other than Jon Snow to talk about, the one subject they will never agree on.

 

“And who does he suggest?”

 

“He thinks we ought to betroth Arya to one of the Martells – the younger, he suggests, as he is negotiating on Robert's behalf to give Princess Myrcella to the elder. He says he would prefer Sansa, but he knows that we've been writing to Highgarden about her.” That had been Catelyn's idea; her Sansa dreamed of going south, and the Tyrells were one of the few Great Houses they had no link to. That the heir to Highgarden was a cripple gave her pause, but there was no suggestion that Willas Tyrell's leg had made him incapable.

 

“Who does he suggest for Robb?”

 

Ned looks away. “Allyria Dayne.”

 

 _No_ , is Catelyn's first thought. Not another Dayne woman, the sister of the shadow she can never escape. _No, no_. But, she can see the sense in it. She's aware that her marriage to Ned insulted the Daynes, as did his taking Ashara's son to Winterfell. And... If Robb were to wed a Dayne, surely they would not want to see him disinherited for the sake of their bastard-born kin?

 

“He also feels that we should send Arya to Dorne when Princess Myrcella is to go in two years' time, to become wards of Doran Martell until such time as the marriages take place.” Mace Tyrell – or more likely, his mother – wants Sansa in Highgarden within the next few years as well, so that she can learn the ways of the Reach. And Edmure, he's been writing to suggest that Bran could foster with him, or Rickon even.

 

“And you, Ned? What do you think?”

 

“I think the plan is a sensible one. I was fostered myself, and this is much the same. And Arya... She will flourish in Dorne, I think.”

 

“What of this Allyria? Is she going to come to Winterfell early?”

 

“There's no suggestion of it. I shall have to write to... I do not know who the castellan is, only that the Lord is a boy of about Arya's age. I am sorry, Cat, I know you didn't want us to let our children go before we had to, that you wanted them to grow up together as you and Lysa and Edmure did.”

 

“I did. But, they have had more time than you did, with your siblings. However, Ned?” She fixes him with a cool stare. “The day Arya leaves, or Sansa, or any of our children? That is the day you send your son to his mother, to his cousin in Dorne, wherever you wish. I will not lose a child of mine and continue to see him here.”

 

It's something, she supposes, that he agrees.


	2. Different Roads, Same Castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important timeline note - in this chapter, the Stark kids are the ages they are when AGOT opens. However, in this 'verse, there's a time jump between getting the direwolf pups and Robert coming to Winterfell. It's about a four-year jump, actually, which will bring the kids to around their show ages by the time most canon events begin. I mostly did this to give myself a bit more pre-canon time to work with - mostly for Jon and Sansa's sakes.

 

Jon's fingers tremble as he writes, because he knows this letter is his best chance for, well, anything. A raven came while he, Robb, Bran, and Theon were with Father, watching behead a Night's Watch deserter. A raven from Highgarden. The Tyrells want Sansa to come south, to live with them for a few years before she marries the family heir, Willas. And that, apparently, means Jon is to leave as well. His father hasn't said where he's going yet, but he mentioned talking to Uncle Benjen and Jon knows what that means.

 

And he's thought about it, taking the black. Even a bastard can rise high in the ranks of the black brothers, after all. And yet... The truth of it is, really, Jon doesn't want to be a man of the Night's Watch. At least not yet. If he does take the black one day, he wants it to be later, after he's seen more than Winterfell, experienced a bit of life.

 

What he wants now is to escape, to leave Winterfell and go south, to the kin he's never met but still longs for. He knows his mother and her family only through letters, the ultimatum Ashara Dayne set Eddard Stark if he continued to insist on taking her son away from her. The truth is, that Jon may look the most Stark of all his father's children save Arya – and he is no fool, he knows that Lady Catelyn's troubles with him are only made worse by that – but he doesn't _feel_ like a Stark. He is the only one, perhaps, who sees the violet lights in his grey eyes, or the fact that his hair is true black, instead of the dark, dark brown of Father and Arya.

 

Something nudges his leg, and Jon looks down to see his direwolf pup, Ghost. Ghost, if anything, is just more proof that he doesn't belong, he thinks. Because they chased Ghost away, didn't they, the other pups? If he was meant to have the outcast...

 

It's not as though Jon doesn't love his siblings, it's not as though they don't love him. Robb is his friend, they've been companions all their lives and he knows no one's fighting form as he knows Robb's, has crossed swords with all the boys of the keep but Robb most of all. They're friends and training yard rivals, pushing each other to be better. Robb will be Lord of Winterfell, after all, their father is a war hero, and Jon is the nephew of one of the most famed Kingsguard knights in living memory. They have much to live up to, and they enjoy matching themselves against each other. Who else can come close, after all? He likes ruffling Rickon's hair and telling him stories, likes helping to teach Bran to shoot and teasing him along with Robb, he even likes it when Sansa smiles at him or, that one time, tried with little success to teach him how to talk to girls. Was it his fault that he couldn't convincingly tell Jeyne Poole he thought her name was pretty?

 

And Arya... Arya is, truly, Jon's best friend in a way even Robb cannot be, the sister of his heart as much as of blood. _More_ than blood, because they only share half. They finish each other's sentences and laugh together and she is the only one who looks like him. Whenever he thinks about leaving Winterfell, it's the thought of not being with Arya anymore that makes him glad in a bittersweet way that his father hasn't let him leave, even though he's asked.

 

And oh, he has asked. Asked to leave Winterfell, to go to his mother. Father says nothing, but just looks at him with such sadness that Jon feels his reasons, the words that would prove how much he needs to be gone from this place dry up in his mouth. So here he remains, though he knows that he actually has an ally. The servants whisper about how Lady Catelyn used to urge her husband to send his bastard either out to foster or back to his mother. He doesn't think she hates _him_ , exactly; she looks at him more like she cannot understand his presence, and while that's uncomfortable, he doesn't hate her. He cannot, when his siblings love their mother so much. Jon and Lady Catelyn don't know what to do with each other, but in this they are agreed; he doesn't belong, why is he still here?

 

There are times, in fact, when Jon has a letter from his mother in hand that Lady Catelyn looks at him, and for a moment they are almost kin in this. For a moment the conflict is lost in their shared wish for the same thing. He thinks she would not even mind much if he wrote to his siblings, as long as he was not in Winterfell. Even though he knows his mother no longer lives at Starfall, not since she married the king's brother Stannis years ago, Jon often thinks even Dragonstone might be better than here. His mother writes that Lord Stannis has nothing against him, and he has a sister Shireen and a brother Arthur, two more siblings he wishes he could meet.

 

So now that he is leaving, he should be happy, shouldn't he? Except he doesn't know where he's going, and if he's right about it being the Wall, he doesn't want that. So he writes his letter to his mother, explaining that with Sansa's departure will come his own, and can she ask Father to let him come to her, or something similar, because he doesn't think his own requests will get him what he wants.

 

If they send him to the Wall, he won't remain there. Once a boy is sent to the Wall, he is a man, and if that's so, Jon will be able to make his own choices then. He'll be free to leave until he takes his vows, and he'll be gone long before that happens. But he would rather not have to do that, because it will shame his uncle, and next to Arya and Robb, Benjen is his favorite Stark relative. His uncle never treats him any different to his trueborn half-siblings, and has even said once or twice he thinks Jon would be best off in Dorne too. He won't intervene with Father for Jon, because he says it's not his place, but... The point is that Jon doesn't want to dishonor him that way.

 

Better if he never goes to the Wall at all, so he seals up his letter and takes it to Maester Luwin to be sent out by raven.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Ashara opens the letter from Jon with her usual eagerness, but as she reads, her lips press together and she can't decide if she ought to be angry or happy. So Ned is finally letting her son go, but not because Jon asked, or she did. No, he's doing it because his lady wife demands it; she must let a child go, and she wants repayment for it, is that it?

 

It isn't that Ashara still wishes she was Lady Stark instead of Catelyn Tully. Some part of her will never let go of Ned, but the love she felt soured when he killed Arthur and took Jon. She is happy enough as Lady Baratheon, for all that her husband is known as a cold, distant man. Stannis is as they say... except when he's not. She knows that, as their children and Renly do, as Davos Seaworth does. And in some ways it amuses her that they are the only ones who do. And in any case, she can _trust_ him, which proved something she could not do when it came to Eddard Stark.

 

But it isn't the past, or even her old resentment of Catelyn, that troubles her now. Jon thinks Ned means to send him to the Wall. He can't do that to her son, not unless for some mad reason he wants it. And he quite clearly does not. _Please, if you ask Father, if some place can be found for me with you, maybe he'll let me come there at last._

 

“Mother, is everything all right?” Arthur is in the doorway of the solar, fresh from the practice yard by the look of him. Ashara finds a smile for her youngest child, looking at her with wide, worried blue-violet eyes.

 

“Everything's fine. Are you done for today?”

 

“Tommen got tired, so he was allowed to go inside. And the other boys are too much older, Ser Aron said I won't learn anything, I'll just get trounced. So he sent me back inside. Is that a letter from Jon?”

 

Ashara's always made it a point to make her eldest part of her other two children’s lives, by encouraging them to write to him and by sharing parts of his letters to her. They like hearing about summer snows and the godswood, and about Ned's wild younger daughter, Arya – so does she, actually. It helps her picture her son's life, and it amuses her that his sister sounds well-suited to marry a Martell one day. But this letter isn't one she wants to share. “It is, but it's very short; he just wanted to ask me something. If you're done with your sword lessons for the day, wash up and join Shireen with the septa for lessons.”

 

“Yes, Mother.” Arthur leaves, and Ashara turns back to the letter. She's still looking at it, trying to figure out the best course of action, when the door opens again, admitting Stannis and Renly.

 

“I will never understand why Arryn put Baelish on the council,” Stannis is saying as they walk in.

 

“Nor will I, but at least he livens things up,” Renly laughs.

 

“Yes, well, you and he would spend the entire time japing at each other if you were allowed, so forgive me if that isn't the most resounding of endorsements.”

 

“Was _that_ a jape from _you_? Stannis, I'm proud of you.”

 

At another time, the conversation, and the glare Renly gets from Stannis for that last comment, would make Ashara laugh. As it is, she cuts over their talk, voice unusually sharp. “I need one of you to take a new squire.” The idea comes from nowhere, and yet she's certain it is the best idea. Ned has not let Jon come to her just to come; well, no one can deny that being a squire to one of the king's brothers is a high honor for anyone, let alone a bastard. Never mind that had she been allowed to keep her son, he would not _be_ a bastard anymore, as she's sure Doran would have legitimized him. Time enough to remedy that. This first.

 

“I've just taken on Davos' boy, Devan, as squire – why?” Stannis asks her, eyes narrowed. Renly moves to lean against the wall by the window, expression curious. Ashara shakes her head, a bitter smile on her face as she passes Stannis the letter. He reads it with no expression, then looks at Renly. “You've just knighted the Tyrell boy.”

 

Renly shrugs. “Yes, and I was rather hoping not to take another squire for a while – Loras was showing me up before the first year was out; I could do without another embarrassment.” He says it lightly, of course; while neither Stannis nor Ashara have ever asked Renly just what it is between him and Loras Tyrell, they know, and he's aware that they do. It's not as though he tries harder to hide it than absolutely necessary, in any case. “Why, who needs squiring?”

 

“My son, Jon,” Ashara tells him. “Apparently, Lady Stark told her husband that when one of her children left Winterfell, so too would Jon. The Tyrells want the older girl, Sansa – she'll marry Willas within the next few years.”

 

“Yes, Loras did mention – his father wants to be sure some of the North is trained out of her before she becomes the future Lady of Highgarden, or some such,” Renly says. “So Stark will send his son away with no plans?”

 

“The boy thinks he means to send him to his uncle on the Wall,” Stannis says, before Ashara can.

 

“Gods, no wonder he wants out of that fate.” Renly shakes his head. “Damn, the boy's the blood of Arthur Dayne, he'll probably be better than me before the year's out too. Ah well, I lived it down once, didn't I?” He grins. “What with Stannis here already busy with our favorite smuggler's boy, I can take the little sand wolf, I suppose.”

 

“'Sand wolf'?” Ashara repeats.

 

“Half Northern, half Dornish. It made sense when I thought of it.”

 

“Of course it did,” Ashara sighs. “Will you write to Ned or shall I do it?”

 

“The letter should come from Renly; that is the proper way,” Stannis cuts in, and Renly chuckles.

 

“Well, there you have it, Ashara, it seems it's my job to write. I'll go back to my chambers now and write a note to our dour Warden of the North, hmm?” With a wave, Renly leaves the room, and Stannis shakes his head.

 

“I wonder sometimes if he takes anything seriously,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Every other word is a joke.”

 

For her part, Ashara thinks the younger Baratheons are good for each other – for all Renly's quips about Stannis being too serious, and all Stannis' grumbles about Renly never being serious at all, they balance each other quite well. She's said as much more than once. “He does, in his way,” is all she says this time. “Actually, it's better Jon will go with Renly, in some ways. It looks less like something I would cause.”

 

“Even though you did. But no, I see your reasons. Most men would think a wife has more influence than a goodsister. I would have taken the boy – Jon – myself, you know. A man can have more than one squire.” Stannis sits down across from her. “Though Renly spends more time away from the capital than I do – for the best, once Robert gets wind of this.”

 

Ashara had tried, once, after marrying Stannis, to appeal to Robert to let her have her son. She knew he had little love for his brothers and so would have little for her, but she'd hoped family obligation meant something to him. He'd brushed her off, saying that Ned was a good man and her son was better off in his home than one ruled by Stannis. The memory still makes her want to hit something – preferably Robert Baratheon, but that would cause more trouble than it would solve.

 

“To be honest, I don't care a whit for what your brother thinks.”

 

“Nor do I, but do you want his next drunken rant to be directed our way? I for one would rather not deal with that.”

 

She can't deny that her husband has a point there.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Ned isn't expecting a letter with the Baratheon seal, though when Maester Luwin hands it to him he imagines he should have. He's well aware that Robert's brothers are no great friends of his, and that some of it is likely due to Ashara's opinion of him. And Jon writes to his mother regularly; it only makes sense that he will have told her that he is to leave Winterfell.

 

Benjen said no, in any case. Jon was too young, his brother had written. A few years more, then it would be fitting, but not yet. And so Ned opens the letter and he's surprised when it is from Lord Renly, rather than Lord Stannis. He would have thought... But Renly writes that he has just lost his squire to a knighthood, and he's in need of a new one.

 

_Who better than my beloved goodsister's eldest child?_

 

He's making a point, phrasing it like that, calling Jon Ashara's child rather than Ned's, or both of theirs. Ned knows it, and there's a part of him that would like to be angry, would like to refuse the offer for that alone. But he can admit, were he in Renly Baratheon's shoes, he might see himself as the wrong one. Ned still believes he did the right thing, still believes raising Jon here in Winterfell, as a Stark in all but name, was the best choice. He has to. But perhaps the right thing now is to let him know his other family, his mother and her other children and the family she married into.

 

He has to let him go anyway, his firstborn son and his firstborn daughter. He is losing them both, but Catelyn is losing Sansa too, and Ashara has done without Jon for all his life. In the face of that, the pain Ned feels at the thought of letting them go seems less. He sighs, taking up paper and pen to write back to Renly.

 

Later, he goes to the training yard where Jon and Robb are just finishing a practice bout. He beckons for Jon to come to him, and they walk to the godswood. Ned sits by the heart tree and Jon sits next to him, expression wary, uncertain. “Father, what is it?”

 

“You know that when Sansa leaves, you too must go. I've told you this.”

 

“Yes, you have. But you haven't said... You haven't told me where I'm going.”

 

“Because I wasn't sure, Jon. I spoke to your uncle, about you joining him at the Wall, but he thinks you're too young. I was considering sending you to live with one of my bannermen – the Manderlys, perhaps the Reeds. Howland Reed is an old friend, who saved my life in the war. However... Your mother's goodbrother, Lord Renly, has written to me. He is in need of a squire, and offered the place to me for you.”

 

Jon's eyes go wide, and for the first time Ned can't help but see that they're not entirely Stark grey, that there is a faint shading of Dayne violet in them. He doesn't know if the realization makes this easier or harder. “I... I'm to be a squire? For the king's brother? But...”

 

“They will speak ill of you,” Ned warns. “Some of the others at court, or at Storm's End – I don't know where you will serve but as Renly sits on his brother's council it seems likely you will be in King's Landing. But in the south... They are not kind to bastards. And they will be jealous of someone close to a member of the royal family, as well.”

 

“I can live with that,” Jon tells him, chin lifted almost defiantly. It reminds Ned of Lyanna, of the real reason why he took Jon when he knew Ashara would have raised him as well as he could. Because he had nothing left of his sister, not even the child who barely outlived her, but his son, Ashara's son, looked so like Lyanna and Brandon too. It was like part of a second chance to protect his family. All of his family.

 

“I imagine your mother and her family will defend you if need be,” Ned manages over the rush of memory. Jon nods, though he frowns like he doesn't want to admit he might need defending. That makes him think of Brandon, and he curls his hand into a fist where Jon can't see, fingernails biting into his skin. It is the reason he is both grateful and unhappy that most of his trueborn children take after Catelyn. Only Jon and Arya bring up ghosts of the past, but as much as it hurts it makes it harder for Ned to let either of them go. Now it's Jon; it won't be long before it's Arya.

 

But this is how things are, how they must be.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The only good thing about any of this is that Septa Mordane's going with Sansa, Arya decides. She tries to tell herself she won't miss Sansa either – or smirking Jeyne Poole, who's going too as Sansa's companion – but she knows that isn't entirely true. And Nymeria will miss Lady, that bothers Arya too.

 

But _Jon_. Why does Jon have to go too? She heard the servants saying it was Mother who insisted on it, but Arya doesn't like to think that's true. She doesn't want to be angry at her mother; she'd rather be angry at the lord who wants Jon for his squire, king's brother or no. It isn't right, it isn't fair. Jon's the only one she can trust with everything; Bran and Rickon are too little, and she just isn't sure if Robb will tell Mother or Father if he thinks he must. And anyway, none of them can say things at the same time she does, they don't know her like Jon does. And once he's there, his knight-master is related by marriage to his mother. Jon's mother has other children, so what if once he meets them he doesn't care about his family here anymore. What if he has another girl to call “little sister” and ruffle _her_ hair?

 

Arya's in her room, for once freed from sewing until her new septa arrives – she's from Dorne, sent by the Martells to teach Arya Dornish ways. They're different from other Southrons, and Septa Mordane had sniffed when she heard, something about Arya's hellion ways being well suited to Dornish minds. The warrior queen Nymeria was Dornish, so Arya supposes that's a good sign. Nymeria the direwolf is scratching at the door, yipping to be let out, but when Arya opens it, Jon's standing there, hand raised to knock. Ghost, at his heels, jumps on Nymeria playfully.

 

Arya and Jon stare at each other for a moment before Arya throws herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck as he hugs her tightly. “I don't want you to go,” she mumbles against his shoulder. “Can't you ask Father to tell Lord Renly no?”

 

Jon sighs, and he shakes his head when they draw apart. “No, I can't, Arya. Well, I imagine I could but it wouldn't be wise. And Father wouldn't listen if I did. Besides, I... I want to be a knight.” He ruffles her hair, just as if this is another normal day. But it isn't.

 

“But you'll forget us if you leave, you'll forget me. You have another sister and a brother in the south, you won't need us anymore.”

 

Jon shakes his head. “Never happen. Not even if the Long Night comes, hmm? Forget you? Impossible. I'll write to you all the time – you know I'm good at writing letters – and one day maybe you can come visit.”

 

“I have to go to Dorne one day, remember?”

 

“So?” Jon wants to know. “My mother's family is Dornish; she grew up with the Martells. Who says your being in Dorne means we won't be able to visit?” He moves back a bit, reaching into his tunic and drawing out something wrapped in grey cloth. “I've got something for you.”

 

Arya takes the bundle, unwrapping it to find a curiously flat dagger. Mikken's mark is on the blade, and there's a direwolf on the crossguard. And, she sees with a grin, a trout etched into the blade. “I would have had him make you a sword instead,” Jon says, “but even with Septa Mordane going to Highgarden with Sansa, I don't think you'll be able to hide a sword from your lady mother for too long. So, this, it's flatter than most because you can hide it under your clothes, where people won't see. Anyone can learn to fight with a sword, but a dagger? Those are only for the quickest, bravest fighters.”

 

Arya grins at him. “I can be quick.”

 

“I don't doubt it. You'll have to work on your reflexes, though – there's a good use even for some of your lady lessons. I'm told dancing is good for that, and you'll have to be quick and balanced, which is also good.”

 

“Dancing, Jon? Really?” Arya rolls her eyes.

 

“What, you don't want a way to make the things they'll force you to learn better?” Jon asks with a wink. “Of course, the most important thing to remember is – stick 'em with the pointy end.”

 

“I know which end to use.”

 

“I just wanted to be sure.” Jon tilts his head a little as he looks at her, and his smile falters. Arya's eyes sting again, and after dropping her new dagger to the bed she flings herself at him again. “I'm going to miss you,” she says, her voice steady only because she won't start crying like a little baby. Not now.

 

“I'll miss you too. But we'll visit once things are settled, like I said. And you never know; different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. It won't be forever, one way or another.” Arya believes him, because Jon sounds so very sure. That doesn't make it any easier when he kisses her forehead, ruffles her hair one last time, and leaves her alone with Nymeria and her new dagger.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Jon's saddling his horse when footsteps make him turn. Robb is standing there, shifting from foot to foot and looking a bit awkward. “So this is it then,” he says after a moment. “You're going south, just like you wanted.”

 

“I am,” Jon agrees, hand gripping his horse's bridle like it's an anchor. This is easier than saying good-bye to Arya was a few minutes before, but only a little.

 

_“I'm the King of Winter!” Robb shouts, blue eyes bright and wooden practice sword held aloft. They're all of seven years old, full of hero dreams._

 

_“I'm Daeron the Young Dragon!” Jon calls back, his own sword held high._

 

_“I'm Ser Duncan the Tall!”_

 

_“I'm the Sword of the Morning!”_

 

Jon shakes off the memories and smiles, a bit sadly. “Leaving is harder than I thought.”

 

Robb chuckles. “I wonder if Sansa will say that, when the party from Highgarden arrives.” He's silent for a moment, and then he pulls Jon to him in a fierce embrace. “Farewell, Snow.”

 

“And you, Stark,” Jon says, returning the hug.

 

“Next time I see you, maybe it'll be Dayne, and you'll be in purple and silver,” Robb says with a laugh when they break apart.

 

“I won't be in the colors regardless; I don't think they'd suit me really.”

 

“If you do, though – take the Dayne name, I mean – it changes nothing. You're still our brother, you know. Still one of us.”

 

Jon could say a lot of things. He could say that he's never really been one of the Starks anyway, and that at least a proper name will give him a proper place. But at the same time, he knows what Robb means. And they _are_ family, even if Jon's never fit quite right. “I'm always your brother,” is all he says, and then, well, Alyn, who will be riding with Jon to White Harbour, is calling for him. “Time to go,” Jon says, taking a deep breath.

 

As he rides out of Winterfell, he glances back. Bran's clambering up one of the towers, but he stops, balanced on a ledge, to wave good-bye. Jon laughs in spite of himself and waves back. “Be careful, will you?”

 

“I'll be fine!” Bran calls back, and Jon shakes his head. Nothing and no one will keep Bran off the walls and the towers. He doesn't know why he even bothered.  
  


Then he turns his head toward the road, Ghost trotting along at his horse's heels. The horse isn't thrilled about that, but Winterfell's animals are used to the direwolf pups by now. He doesn't let himself think about Arya's hugs, or Robb's words, or the way Bran grinned when he waved good-bye. Not now.

 

Days later, though, when he stands at the rail of a ship and watches the coastline of the North fade into the distance, he can't help but think about it. This is what he wants, it's what he always wanted, but he can't deny he's going to miss them. But like he told Arya, different roads sometimes lead to the same castle, and he has another family to meet. No one can take Arya's place as the sister he speaks in unison with and shares secrets with, no one can be his boyhood rival/friend like Robb, and no one will have that same innocent mischief that Bran mid-climb has, but there's room for new people. There's room for his mother, for Shireen and Arthur, the family he only knows through letters. As for his mother's husband, and her goodbrother who will be his knight-master... Jon isn't sure what they will be to him, how things will be with the Baratheon lords. But there's only one way to find out, and it's too late to turn back even if he wanted to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon giving Arya a dagger and not Needle... Don't worry, Needle's coming. From a slightly different source in that Mikken won't be making it, but the reason I'm delaying Needle is stated in-story. In canon, Arya was headed for King's Landing where, as we see, with Ned's help she was able to keep Needle and her water dancing under wraps. Even without Ned she was able to hide Needle. No way she pulls that off in Winterfell. So, dagger now, Needle later.


End file.
